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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27672602">15x20 coda</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zation/pseuds/zation'>zation</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, But I make no excuses, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel Lives (Supernatural), Coda, DON'T READ THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT THE END OF SUPERNATURAL SPOILED FOR YOU, Dean Winchester Talks About Feelings, Destiel at it's most precious, Episode AU: s15e20 Carry On, Feel free to discuss in the comments, Fix-It, Hunting, I did this as therapy for myself and I post this because I hope it can help someone else too, I needed this and I think a lot of you did too, Indirect suicidal thoughts, Kissing, M/M, Major Spoilers, POV Dean Winchester, SPNFamily - Freeform, This might be the unsexies fic to ever come from zation, Was Dean's death a suicide?, basically all the spoilers, because we need to know what he was thinking between those stilted lines of dialogue, family don't end with blood - Freeform, the MCD tag is for Dean (and Sam), the ending we and the characters deserve, this is a rewrite of the very last episode</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:16:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,552</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27672602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zation/pseuds/zation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I fixed the episode, fam.</p>
<p>Or,</p>
<p>The one where you’re welcome.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>240</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>15x20 coda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have no words about that fucking episode, that fucking <em>ending</em>, except I apparently had over 10k of words (and that’s only about Dean and Destiel, don’t even get me started on everything else!), and here they are for you to read.</p>
<p><strong>Disclaimer:</strong> I have used dialogue straight from the show (by re-watching the episode with CC and pausing to literally copy it) and obviously that’s not mine, that, unfortunately, belongs to the CW. I used artistic licensing and <strike>stole</strike> borrowed it to use it to express my grief.</p>
<p>Please read ALL tags.</p>
<p>Also, I’m not making excuses for the sad fucking title, I’m just calling it as it is.</p>
<p>I love you BeeCas.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The first thing Dean feels when the alarm clock starts blaring is pain. Not physical pain, but the deep kind of void that makes it feel as if his soul has been sucked out of him. Only, he knows what soulless people behave like and he’s definitely not one of them. He wishes he were, because a life without feelings seems like it would be better than what he has right now.</p>
<p>And then he forces himself to sit up and stretch, accepting the dog into his open arms when it barks and jumps onto the bed. “Hey, buddy.”</p>
<p>Hugging that is a poor substitute but at least it’s a hug.</p>
<p>“Good morning,” he mumbles against the dog’s fur and yeah, seeing the animal so happy to see him does make him feel a little better, although it’s a short reprieve.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Well in the shower he lets himself feel more, lets the pain wash over him, because in the shower no one can see his tears and that’s his only solace.</p>
<p>He dresses in the dead man’s bathrobe because that’s his now and he takes comfort in the little things. On the way to the kitchen he passes room 15 with his head bent, watching his feet as they trudge along, grey slippers against grey concrete.</p>
<p>He holds his breath and doesn’t breathe until he’s at room 22, which is much easier to pass by but still hurts enough that he doesn’t really look at the door itself.</p>
<p>Sam’s at the stove making breakfast and that’s the best thing so far about this day. Sam usually takes long morning runs, claiming he likes the exercise and that just watching the scenery is peaceful. Dean hopes Sam is secretly messaging Eileen and having phone sex on the downlow because he would be a fucking idiot if he didn’t. At least <em>he</em> can—</p>
<p>“It’s hot,” Sam warns him the moment after the bread pops out of the toaster.</p>
<p>Dean wants to snark about it, of course it’s hot, he literally <em>just </em>saw it pop. But he doesn’t have the energy anymore. Instead he just grabs one and burns his hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam wants them to keep the bunker neat, what for Dean doesn’t know. It’s not like Sam has invited over any of his hunter friends lately. That whole net of hunters that he built while Dean was away being soul raped by Michael is just gone.</p>
<p>There’s no one to visit, no one to call, no one to make pretty for and though Dean gets why Sam wants it tidy because they’re not fucking animals, he doesn’t care enough to make an effort in his own room.</p>
<p>Even the pretense of making the bed seems ridiculous and most days he just ends up tossing the blanket haphazardly on the bed. There’s a mostly empty pizza carton in his room too that he knows needs addressing but fuck it, like most days he feels like it can wait. Almost everything can wait. Dean is frankly happy he’s even able to get out of bed and brush his teeth at this point.</p>
<p>The reflection staring back at him looks… fine. Ish. He doesn’t look bad, not for his age and not for what he went through. He hides it well, he thinks.</p>
<p>Having the dog around helps some, at least it’s something alive in the bunker besides them. Sometimes he wonders if the owners miss it and even though he’s sure they do, he never brings up the fact that they stole it. Neither does Sam and Dean thinks it’s because Sam knows how much he needs this right now.</p>
<p>He even lets the dog lick the dishes sometimes even though he knows Sam doesn’t like it. Today is one of those days, Sam left a mess for some reason and when Dean whistles at the dog it comes trotting faithfully.</p>
<p>It makes his heart twinge, but he refuses to acknowledge why.</p>
<p>“There you go,” he mumbles affectionately. The dog’s tail swishes happily as it licks the plate clean with gusto. “Good boy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean cleans his guns while Sam does the laundry and that’s a nice moment for Dean. He doesn’t like being alone nowadays, but when he’s picking apart his guns it’s fine because his mind doesn’t wander. It focuses solely on the task and Dean gets lost in the familiar motions, the act one that carries a heavy weight.</p>
<p>This he does to protect, this he does to harm, this was something his dad taught him, and this is something he himself passed on, to Sam and to other newly initiated hunters. He likes doing it and will even do it sometimes more for the sake of getting lost in it, rather than the guns needing cleaning, same as when he sometimes tunes up Baby for no real reason.</p>
<p>By the time he finishes it’s only 10 a.m. but he decides to have a snack anyway. After he’s devoured a bland sandwich, he goes to sit in the bunker, his laptop fired up. There haven’t been a lot of hunts lately and Dean likes to think that that’s because the number of monsters has diminished. And with Rowena running hell, the demons are under tight supervision, even though Dean doesn’t really believe that will last. Though he supposes that Jack likes Rowena well enough to help her out if she needed it.</p>
<p>In some ways he hopes that Jack gets rid of all monsters altogether but in another way, he doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if he wasn’t needed as a hunter anymore. Where would he go? What would he do? He wonders about those job listings he’d been eying. Would he really be able to go there, take that leap?</p>
<p>Sam would be fine, Dean knows, Sam has Eileen, and they could build a life together. He thinks, at least. He should really ask if Sam has even contacted her. As far as Dean knows Sam hasn’t really been out of the bunker since Jack left, save for his morning runs and some quick grocery hauls but he <em>has</em> to believe Sam took the opportunity when Jack restored everyone on Earth. He simply has to.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>For some stupid <em>fucked up</em> reason, Dean ends up looking at a few selected pictures that he has on his laptop. They’re old, from when Charlie was alive and came to the bunker to have pizza with them all. She’d take a few pictures with her phone and texted them to Dean and Dean, like a total fucking chump, has saved them on his laptop so he’d have them even if his phone died.</p>
<p>Because they’re precious, they’re important, they make him feel as if things matter, like they used to do before—<em>before</em>, when they were fighting for <em>something</em> rather than just… than just living, existing.</p>
<p>They’re all smiling in the pictures. Some days that makes it worse.</p>
<p>Today is a relatively good day, though. The dog comes when Dean draws a shuddering breath and when Dean pulls out the chair next to him, the dog scrambles to get up on it, nuzzling close.</p>
<p>Dean’s stuck looking at one particular picture for at least ten minutes, before Sam comes into the room and he promptly shuts it down. The screen pops to what he’d been doing before he opened that cursed picture folder, and he looks up to see if Sam had noticed but when it looks like he hadn’t, Dean goes back to scrolling through the news site.</p>
<p>Sam sits down opposite Dean just as Dean’s eyes catch on an article about a pie festival. He reads it while petting the dog, Sammy opening his own laptop.</p>
<p>“Nothing weird coming over the wire,” he mumbles. “Social media looks clean.”</p>
<p>Dean barely hears him. A pie festival. Now that could be something. Something other than this drudge his life has become. Same thing day in and day out, grey walls, cooking, cleaning, walking the dog. Something… just something <em>else</em>.</p>
<p>Dean needs to see colors again.</p>
<p>“You got anything?”</p>
<p>It looks like it’s fairly close by too. Dean’s dull heart pumps a little faster. This is something they could do, for them, for him. He needs this.</p>
<p>“Dean?”</p>
<p>He looks up when he hears Sam say his name, tentative excitement pulling at his insides.</p>
<p>“I got something.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The place they arrive at is like something right out of a Wholesome American catalogue. There’s flowers and banners and people. And <em>pie</em>.</p>
<p>Dean dares to smile and thinks that this, this is what they fought for. For people and community and the world. And it’s almost worth all the sacrifices when he sees smiling children and happy parents.</p>
<p>Dean tries to walk casually but he kind of wants to run ahead like a little kid. Of course, Sam is a bit more reserved, having been on board with the idea of a break but of course not as enthused as Dean about the main event.</p>
<p>“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he asks, tone way too serious. Unless he means to ask if Dean is ready to be out in public because that’s a whole other matter.</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t have a choice.” Dean means that both jokingly and not. He needs to be ready to go out in the world again and do normal things. He can’t just hole up in the bunker all day every day and only go out for hunts. He needs to move forward, it’s only fair to everyone, including himself. “This is my destiny.”</p>
<p>He’s always been a pie guy, after all.</p>
<p>As they approach, sounds and scents wash over them and it hits Dean hard then, how much he has wanted this too. It’s not just Sam who wants an apple pie kind of life, Dean has wanted out for a while too and something simple like this, a freaking pie festival, in the midst of everything, almost breaks him. Because this he can only have as an outsider looking in. This will never be his life now, and though this festival was supposed to be a nice break, the meaning of it hits him hard.</p>
<p>“It’s just so beautiful.”</p>
<p>So beautiful and out of reach.</p>
<p>Sam snorts, not picking up on Dean’s emotions. Dean doesn’t blame him. “Are you crying?”</p>
<p>Yes, he is. He’s crying for the loss of the life he could have had, even after everything, and he’s crying for the beauty that lies in the lives that do have this. That can fulfill the destiny he never will have. It’s a bittersweet mixture and yes, it makes him cry.</p>
<p>“What? No.” He looks away quickly, ashamed of how touched he felt by something so stupid. “You’re crying, I’m—” he shakes his head. “I’m gonna get some, uh…” the words choke him.</p>
<p>“Pie.” Sam finishes with amusement.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna get some <em>damn</em> pie.”</p>
<p>Because at least he can fucking have that. He can have his favorite dessert and he’s not gonna let himself ruin this. He deserves a treat.</p>
<p>Sam just nods, probably thinks Dean is being childish, but Dean doesn’t care. He walks off, finds the nearest booth and starts racking up some slices. He decides he wants one of every pie and pretty soon he finds himself running out of hands. A nice old lady standing in the booth for cherry pies asks him if he’s getting pie for his entire family and he almost tears up again. Because yes, he is, because Sam is it. Dean’s got no other family now and it’s so unfair.</p>
<p>What happened to the new Charlie and her girlfriend? What happened to Donna and Jody and the girls? What happened to Garth? What happened to <em>anyone and everyone</em>. No one has reached out to Dean and asked him how he’s feeling, how he’s coping with losing such an integral part of himself. Granted, he hasn’t exactly called people either, but he thinks he can be excused considering everything, no? Why does no one care about him? Why is he all alone? Why—</p>
<p>The old lady gives him the lid of a carton she’d used to transport her pies in so that he can start gathering pies on plates in that and by the time he’s done he’s six pies richer.</p>
<p>He spots Sam sitting on a bench on the other side of the festival grounds and starts weaving his way through the crowd. He makes it almost all the way and then nearly walks into a dude just as he’s reaching the bench.</p>
<p>“Hey, hey, <em>hey</em>, hey!” he mutters, swirling gracefully with his lid to avoid collision. The guy doesn’t even seem to notice him even though Dean gives him a glare before sitting down beside Sam. Typical. “Hey.”</p>
<p>Sam takes one look down at the six different slices of pie and the pile of forks and scoffs.</p>
<p>Dean feels his insides twinge. Must he? Can’t he just let Dean have this?</p>
<p>“What? What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>“Nothing,” Sam answers in a huff. That same huff Dean has heard a million times before. “I’m fine.”</p>
<p>“Nah, come on.” Dean suddenly feels very tired. “I know that face. That’s, uh—that Sad Sam face.”</p>
<p>“I’m not Sad Sam.”</p>
<p>Dean can’t help but feel so very done with everything. Why can’t he just have this moment of peace, what’s wrong now? He looks at Sam, words escaping him as he silently wills his little brother to just fucking say it, say what’s on his mind so Dean can have his goddamn pie already and maybe feel just a slice of contentment, even for a fleeting moment.</p>
<p>“I’m just—” Sam huffs again and looks at the ground. “I’m thinking about Cas, y’know?”</p>
<p>And there it is, that void, back again so easily and Dean feels stupid for even thinking that a stupid <em>pie festival</em> could be the thing to fix him or give at least some sense of relief. Just hearing Cas’ name out loud is enough to make his chest contract painfully and he has to look away from Sam, take a deep breath, to try to dispel the dizziness.</p>
<p>“Jack.” Sam bulldozes on, clearly not catching on how Dean is feeling and how could he? Dean’s not sharing, after all. “If they could be here.”</p>
<p>Dean never told Sam about what when down in that goddamn room. Sure, he told Sam and Jack the gist of it, but he never told them what Cas said; what it meant. How it made Dean feel. It seems too large to say out loud and somehow like sharing it would be a betrayal. His words, his puny human emotions and words, too small and insufficient in recounting what Cas had said and felt and how that had made Dean—</p>
<p>He just hasn’t been able to say it. Sam thinks Dean lost his best friend and that is enough for now, that’s all Dean can bear to say out loud.</p>
<p>“Yeah.” His voice is hoarse. The void grows, swallows him. He feels insignificant. “Yeah I know, I think about ‘em too.” He looks down, ducks his head to hide his face when he feels tears welling. His throat feels tight, everything is <em>too tight</em>. He draws a breath, steels himself. “You know what? That pain’s not gonna go away.” Fuck knows it’s only growing inside him, festering like an open wound. He looks at Sam for confirmation, he can’t be the only one feeling like this, right? “Right?”</p>
<p>Sam looks down and yeah, he looks real fucking sad now. Dean’s instincts kick in, he doesn’t want this for his little brother. He can live with the pain; he can deserve it for all the times he could’ve just <em>done</em> something but had chosen the cowardly way. Yeah, Dean thinks, he truly deserves to feel like a nullified void for all the time he wasted.</p>
<p>But Sam doesn’t.</p>
<p>“But if we don’t keep living,” he nods, reassuring, almost believes his own words. “Then all that… <em>sacrifice</em> is gonna be for nothing.”</p>
<p>That word, it hurts. There was so much they could have done, so much more than just… give up. But it had been Dean, always Dean, who gave up. They could’ve fought, they could’ve thrown a chair in Billie’s face and run out of the room, repeated the process with the sigil and just waited her out. But then Cas wouldn’t have said—and Dean would never have known—and even if he had, eventually, said everything and if Dean then… then The Empty would still have come for him. Because Cas had made an awful deal and hadn’t told anyone and Dean is still <em>so mad</em> but also…</p>
<p>He needs to deflect or he’s gonna explode and Sam doesn’t deserve to see that.</p>
<p>“So quit being a freaking Eeyore, eh?” fucking hell, even his attempt at humor stifles him. “Come on,” he tosses a fork in Sam’s direction. “Get <em>into</em> this.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, you’re right,” Sam sounds only half convinced but Dean will take what he can get at this point, forcing out a choked off chuckle to hammer in how freaking <em>good</em> they <em>should</em> be feeling right now.</p>
<p>They saved the freaking world, and they haven’t got much to show for it, at least this could be—</p>
<p>Suddenly Dean’s face is smashed against the pie he’d offered up to Sam, his vision blinded and his mind screeching to a halt.</p>
<p>Sam chuckles good-naturedly as the pie slides off Dean’s face. “I’ve wanted to do that for a <em>very</em> long time.” He laughs even more when Dean just sits there, his face covered in creamy filling and crust. “Oh, you’re right. I <em>do</em> feel better.”</p>
<p>Dean’s body feels cold, his mind numb. So this is what he gets, this is his life now. This life of hunting, late nights with only his brother, empty rooms and closed doors. And his pie crushed, inedible and out of reach. How fitting as a metaphor for his life.</p>
<p>While Sam laughs to himself, Dean slowly scrapes pie off his face, eyes unseeing as he has a taste, what little morsel of that pie he can get at this point. It’s bland and uninteresting, just like everything else.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They get a call about a case a few days later. Some no-name town with disappearing kids. Sam immediately wants to jump on it and Dean pretends he wants it just as much. It’s kids going missing, after all, and he should care.</p>
<p>But ever since the pie festival he’s started feeling more and more numb. It gets tougher to even get out of bed. The dog helps a lot, improves Dean’s mood with just being in the same room, and it’s usually the thought that he has to walk the dog that gets Dean up in the morning. Sam thinks it’s really nice that Dean takes the morning walks because then he can get his jogging in, but Dean doesn’t do it for Sam, and barely even for the dog.</p>
<p>He just needs something to do, something to keep him motivated to get up. He even sets his alarm clock just to make sure he wakes up. He’d heard that depression makes you sleep a lot, but Dean’s always thought he did that because he used to drink a ton when he was sad, but apparently he can sleep like a log just fine without booze.</p>
<p>He wishes he didn’t dream, though, but that’s another thing.</p>
<p>So anyway, they go to the town of course, even though Dean secretly wants to say no. He’s been looking at those job listings again, in those weak moments when it gets so bad that he thinks he can’t do this shit anymore and he needs to distract himself or he might do something really fucked up. There’s a reason he hasn’t touched his whisky since they saved the world, after all. So, looking at jobs and imagining a different life is one way to divert attention, though it doesn’t help much.</p>
<p>But since he doesn’t want Sam to know how bad it actually is, he has to keep up appearances, has to act normal, and a hunter must hunt. He does mention that they can’t really be away because they have no one to take the dog out but according to Sam it’ll be fine, it’s not that far, they have pee pads yadda yadda. Dean’s really not getting out of this one.</p>
<p>Walking up to the house, Dean notes that it’s a nice house but a little out of the way, it could just be a crazy human that went on a kidnapping spree. They haven’t really seen or heard much about monsters after Jack took over, after all.</p>
<p>Clad in their nice fed suits that Sam ironed for this occasion, they walk up to the closest police officer, a sergeant, by the looks of it. It’s an attractive woman, standing by the open door with a folder in her hands. The door itself is taped over with police tape and Dean sees forensics at work inside.</p>
<p>“Singer and Kripke. FBI.” Sam announces as they flash their badges, the motion so familiar it’s lackluster by now.</p>
<p>The sergeant frowns in confusion. “Feds do home invasions now?”</p>
<p>She has a pleasant voice, but Dean doesn’t notice that. Little details like that have stopped mattering to him.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah, we’re full service.” He says instead, the line about as tired as he feels, but he flashes her a half-assed grin to cover for that.</p>
<p>“Something weird over the wire,” Sam cuts in. “One of the bodies—its blood was drained?”</p>
<p>The sergeant shakes her head sadly. “Oh, yeah. Throat torn out, the whole nine. Some kind of cannibal crap.”</p>
<p>Yikes, maybe they’re not dealing with human attackers after all. Dean wishes he would feel a bit interested in that revelation, but he just doesn’t.</p>
<p>He still feels responsible, though, and wonders briefly when that will stop too.</p>
<p>“And the kids?” he asks.</p>
<p>Again, she shakes her head. “Taken.”</p>
<p>Damn, okay, that <em>does</em> make him feel a twinge for something other than his own shit. Kids are still kids after all. They should be happy and going to pie festivals and play ball. Not get spirited away in the night by possible monsters.</p>
<p>For a moment Dean feels anger. Because where is Jack in all this? Dean had thought he would do it better than Chuck, after that whole cringy ass speech about being “in every drop of falling rain” Dean had <em>expectations</em>. But apparently kids still get eaten just fine and yeah, that’s just <em>great</em>.</p>
<p>“What about the mom?” Sam takes over, thankfully.</p>
<p>“They left her, but they ripped out her tongue.”</p>
<p>Dean doesn’t know what to think about that to be honest. Did the assailants think that would hinder her from telling on them? He’s a bit confused, maybe it wasn’t monsters after all, because why would they pass up a free meal?</p>
<p>“Any idea what these guys look like?” he asks, hoping for a security camera or something to have caught a sign of what they’re dealing with.</p>
<p>“Kinda,” the sergeant says, rifling through her folder. “She drew this.”</p>
<p>She shows them a drawing of a grinning white face, almost like a skull, and Dean’s stomach swoops. He knows that face, has seen it a lot of times before, even though it’s not something that’s really come up during all these years. Frankly, Dean had hoped it never would.</p>
<p>From inside the house, an officer calls for the sergeant and she excuses herself. Sam lets her go with a forced smile and a “thanks for your time” and as soon as she’s gone, Dean kicks into gear.</p>
<p>“I recognize that face.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, me too.”</p>
<p>There’s no doubt, it’s somewhere in dad’s journal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s not amused with Dean’s attempted humor. It <em>could </em>be evil mimes, just saying. And more than that, what he wanted mentioned is that it could still be humans. Dad didn’t actually find out much about them and he even left the case open, which wasn’t like him at all, something that pointed to it not being monsters.</p>
<p>Sam is dead set on it being vampires, though, so they head to what they assume will be the next place to get hit, Canton, where they find the most remote house and set up camp. It’s a ridiculous plan because the vampires could come from anywhere and go to any house. It’s not like Canton is so small it only has the one house that’s secluded, but they make a guess and sure enough, in the middle of the night a damn van shows up.</p>
<p>Dean wants to spit and curse because this seriously can’t be his life now. He went from saving the world and wishing for a simpler life, to having a simpler life and wishing for so much more. There’s thankfully no time to think because two masked men immediately get out of the van.</p>
<p>Despite his earlier musings, Dean jumps into the fray as soon he gets a clean shot—or swing, as it were—and chops off one of the men’s head with his trustworthy machete. The act makes him pause because what the fuck is he doing? What if Sam was wrong and it had been actual humans?</p>
<p>He’s almost caught unawares when the other guy comes up behind him in his confusion, but Sam catches him.</p>
<p>“Hey!” he exclaims, making the man turn.</p>
<p>Dean sneaks off and lets Sam get a clean shot, while the man just stands there like a target dummy. Sam shoots him in the leg so he can’t run, they need answers about the kids after all. But as if that’s not enough, he caps the man in the head too and Dean sighs inwardly. <em>If</em> this were an ordinary man, they now have no one alive, and if it’s a vamp then the dead man’s blood on the first bullet would have been enough to keep the vampire still for long enough for them to interrogate him.</p>
<p>Either Sam just fucked their chances of getting the kids or he just wasted a perfectly good bullet. Plus, now they have to wait for the man to wake up again.</p>
<p>The look he gives Sam is probably enough to relay his dissatisfaction, but Sam just shrugs and goes to get some rope. Guess that’s the upside, now the vampire won’t squirm as they tie him up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The interrogation reveals that yes, it’s vampires they’re dealing with, and yes, the kids are alive. Apparently, they grab a couple of kids every few years to raise them, feed them, “juice them up” because this nest “don’t do fast food”. This makes Dean’s blood boil, and he welcomes the rage, anything not to feel like a robot going through the motions anymore.</p>
<p>The vampire takes the easy way out, most do when faced with the option to be tortured to death as opposed to a swift one, but not before he gives them the location of the kidnapped kids.</p>
<p>Coming up on the place is reminiscent. It’s a barn like many other barns, but Dean gets a feeling he’s seen it before and that something life-changing or important happened in it. But who knows, Dean’s seen a lot of barns in his life, some he’d like to forget and some he sees in his dreams.</p>
<p>“This the place?” Sam asks as they get out of Baby, looking around.</p>
<p>“Dark, creepy, something out of Wes Craven’s erotic fantasy?” Dean gets the keys to the trunk out of his pocket. “Yeah. It’s one hundred percent the place.”</p>
<p>A lonely train horn blares in the distance, insects chirping. Dean sighs to himself as he unlocks Baby’s trunk, noting how dusty she is. She needs a washing and cleaning, both in and out, and Dean recognizes that he’s been doing a shitty job of that ever since the pie festival.</p>
<p>“Alright,” he mumbles, flipping open the hidden compartment to reveal all their weaponry.</p>
<p>He finds the throwing stars that they’ve never really used and feels unexpectedly giddy. What if—?</p>
<p>Sam shuts that down quickly enough and Dean has to settle for the machete, of course, because it’s true and tried and he shouldn’t step outside the lines.</p>
<p>The barn itself is creepy, the ambiance set for an ambush, but Dean’s not impressed, not after all the shit he’s been through. In a way this feels cheap and he’s not even scared. He thinks he should be scared for the kids, but his heart has never been so calm.</p>
<p>They pause in the middle of the barn, unsure. It looks empty of life and who knows, maybe that vampire gave them a faulty address after all. Dean knows for sure that’s what he would’ve done. No way in hell he would be giving up the correct place if he were threatened like that. What are they gonna do? He’d be dead anyway by the time they noticed they’d been fooled. But monsters are thankfully mostly idiots, so it usually works out.</p>
<p>And sure enough, a sound draws their attention in the next moment. A clattering that makes them move over to a door, which Dean opens with a bang, machete in hand.</p>
<p>It’s two little boys and thank fuck, they seem okay.</p>
<p>“Hey, boys,” he says, tries to sound reassuring. “Okay. Come on. Stay behind us. We’re gonna keep you safe. Come on.”</p>
<p>Dean hates himself for always promising people that when he <em>knows</em> that he can’t keep anyone safe. It’s automatic, that line, by now.</p>
<p>The boys dutifully do as he says, though, and he thinks for a moment that they’re too trusting. Sure, he and Sam don’t have masks on but they’re still full-grown men that the boys don’t know, carrying weapons. And they just come along.</p>
<p>But <em>of course,</em> as soon as they turn around, they’re met with the rest of the nest. Four vampires in those ridiculous masks, just standing there and waiting for them as if they’re gonna reenact The Purge. Dean wants to sigh, loudly.</p>
<p>Sam turns to the kids. “Go. Go. Go. Run!”</p>
<p>But where the fuck are they gonna go, Sammy? Outside, where they don’t know if more vamps lurk? They don’t know how fucking many are in this nest; it could be a whole football team waiting outside. Dean’s furious about that but also knows the kids shouldn’t see what’s about to happen. Hopefully, they’ll run and hide and be fine while Sam and Dean take care of the four inside the barn.</p>
<p>Dean and Sam nod to themselves, approaching the vampires slowly, as if this is supposed to be some epic showdown. Dean just wants it to be over with but at the same time he starts thinking about why that is. Because he doesn’t want to be in a fight, obviously, because that hurts. But what else is he going to do? Go home to the bunker? That bunker with the endless halls filled with memories and silence.</p>
<p>Suddenly he feels a weight on his shoulders, suddenly he feels done. Suddenly all his baggage and all his trauma, it all catches up to him. He feels repetitive, this drab fucking hunt sucking out what little life he had left in him and he throws himself into the fight with reckless abandon, fearless in a dangerous way.</p>
<p>Sam gets knocked down and nearly knocked out and Dean doesn’t even care. He keeps swinging, keeps hitting, keeps grunting and fighting, his mind blank.</p>
<p>Suddenly there’s two of them on him, he’s tossed to the floor and held down and that’s when the fight leaves him. He knows, realistically, that he can still flail his legs, could maybe even get in a kick, the stupid assholes have only restrained his arms, but what’s the point? What is even anything anymore?</p>
<p>As he’s lying there, waiting to be killed, a woman suddenly walks out, smirking down at him. Oh what fresh hell is this? Can’t they just kill him and be done with it? Now he has to—oh wait, he knows her from somewhere.</p>
<p>He quirks his head to the side, brow knitted. “Well, I know you.” It dawns on him as soon as the words are out of his mouth. “Jenny.”</p>
<p>The young woman who was turned into a vampire, her boyfriend eaten, simply because they were lured in by a trap set by the nest. Another one of the many, many people Dean couldn’t save. Dean feels nostalgic for a moment, remembering raiding that nest together with Sam and dad to get the Colt. Those were the days.</p>
<p>“Son of a bitch.” He laughs, overcome by the memories and momentarily forgetting his predicament.</p>
<p>“Hey, Dean.” She says, smiling almost as if she’s fond of him, happy to see him, as if his dad didn’t kill her nest’s leader.</p>
<p>The two vampires holding him down rips him off the floor and he grunts because that fucking hurts, being pulled on like that. Standing up, he notices that Sam’s hand is slowly inching towards his lost machete, though, and Dean thinks that okay, maybe today isn’t the day he dies.</p>
<p>“Well, look at you,” he laughs, deciding to go with the distraction method, even though he’s pretty sure one of the vamps holding his arms should be able to see Sam from here. “You know, we tried to kill each other back in the day.” He says, turned to that vampire, catching his attention. The other is mostly standing with his back to Sam so it’s hopefully fine. “Yeah. This is so weird.” Where is Sam? Getting closer. Okay, good, good. “It’s like running into somebody in high school, you know? Somebody you don’t want to see.” Humor usually works, humor is a good step-stone for deflecting. “Well, you look good. You do.” Jenny looks tired of his bullshit is what she looks like. “I mean, a little dead, but, uh, good.”</p>
<p>“Thanks.” She smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes. Dean thinks about the boys, did she kill them before coming in here or did they manage to evade her?</p>
<p>“So, what, are you, like, the uh…” stop blabbering, Sam is almost there. “The big boss or something?”</p>
<p>“No.” She shakes her head once. “I just called dibs.”</p>
<p>Dean’s at a loss. Did she know he and Sam would be the ones coming when the kids were grabbed? Did they see them at the last house and she came running? When and how had she called dibs. He’s just about to ask when she flashes her fangs and hisses in a very uncharacteristic way for vampires, looks more like a Leviathan to be frank, but thankfully Sam is up and chops her head off before that shit goes anywhere.</p>
<p>How the fuck her vampire pals didn’t see Sam the Lumberjack sneaking up on her is a mystery to Dean but he’s not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.</p>
<p>The fight is on immediately after that and Dean loses himself in it again.</p>
<p>Two on two, it goes pretty easy. Dean gets tossed to the side for a moment, while Sam chops off one vampire’s head. Dean, robbed of his machete, ops to throw himself at the remaining one in pure hand-to-hand combat. They size each other up for a second and then they both charge. Only, Dean’s not amped up on supernatural strength so he’s easily picked up and pushed against a support beam.</p>
<p>And a rusty piece of rebar jutting out from the beam that digs itself deep into his back and punctures one of his lungs. He feels it, can almost taste it, and he grunts as he tries to push off the vampire even though he’s stuck. He’s stuck and it’s pulling on his insides and he’s <em>stuck</em>.</p>
<p>Sam gets the vamp though, easy as pie, except things are never that easy.</p>
<p>“Alright,” Sam says, calm as soon as the fight is over. “Let’s go find those kids, get them outta here.”</p>
<p>Dean can barely breathe. His whole everything hurts.</p>
<p>“Sam…” another breath, agony. Sam looks at him, confused. “I don’t—mh.” He touches his chest. The rebar is not poking out, not long enough for it to show on the other side of him, but it feels like it should be. Feels huge. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere.”</p>
<p>“What?” Sam’s even more confused now and you know what? So is Dean. “What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>“There’s something in my… something in my back.” Talking hurts too. He sighs, tries to get air, but that’s almost enough to make him black out. “It feels like it’s right through me.”</p>
<p>Sam walks up, puts his hand around Dean and fucking hell, the pain is white hot, searing through him. Is this really how he dies? <em>This</em>. A hunting accident? A slow and agonizing death on a fucking run-of-the-mill hunt, like a disposable pawn, like the blunt instrument he always knew he were, despite being told differently. </p>
<p>What happened to his free will? What happened to his day on the beach, toes in the sand? What happened to his life?</p>
<p>Sam’s hand comes away bloody and the sight only makes the pain worse, more real.</p>
<p>“Oh, God.” He groans. It’s a stupid exclamation, considering everything, but it’s too ingrained at this point. Frustration wells up inside him and makes him yell, which of course only exasperates the pain.</p>
<p>“Alright.” Sam says, panicking now. “Um… Hold on. Okay. Uh, I got you.”</p>
<p>He comes in as if he’s about to pull Dean off the rebar and Dean’s whole body jolts.</p>
<p>“No, no, no, no, no,” he grunts. “Don’t… don’t… don’t move me. Don’t move me.” A tiny gasp for air. “It feels like this thing’s holding me together right now.”</p>
<p>Fuck he can barely think, can feel his strength draining out of him with the blood that’s pouring out of his back. Every breath is shallower than the last and it hits him that yeah, this might actually be it. After everything, this is how he goes. He knows dying, has done it before, but never quite in such a way and it’s infuriating but under all that, he starts feeling a sense of peace setting in. Maybe it won’t be so bad to let go after all.</p>
<p>Sam’s scared now; Dean can see it on his little brother’s face. He doesn’t understand why he isn’t allowed to help, why he can’t help, and Dean wants to tell him that it’s too late, but he can’t find the words.</p>
<p>“Just give me…” he needs to tell Sam that this is it, he needs Sam to understand and accept and let him go. “Just give me a minute.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Sam’s still trying to figure out how to fix this, though, Dean can hear that in his voice. “Um… alright. I’ll call for help. I’ll get the first-aid kit.”</p>
<p>Like they’ve done so many times before, except this is different because this time Dean feels that peace settle over him, wrapping around him. Relief is what he feels. He wonders briefly if he should tell Sam about the job listings, about that application he was tinkering with, if he should tell his brother his hopes for the future, how he was trying to be positive for something brighter.</p>
<p>But one look at Sam’s face tells him that that’s not what his brother needs to hear right now. All that is irrelevant in this dying moment. Sam’s gonna find it anyway, he can make of that what he will. Dean hopes he takes it to heart and makes a better life for himself, makes a life he wants, that <em>he</em> chose, because that’s all Dean wants for his little brother. Maybe a normal life if Sam is still interested in that? With a wife and kids and all that jazz. Dean’s just sad that he won’t be able to stand by Sam’s side at the wedding and he won’t be the godfather to Sam’s kids but at the same time he’s so ready to let go now. </p>
<p>So ready to rest, to lay his weary head down.</p>
<p>Sam steps away to run to Baby and Dean’s heart thuds dully at the thoughts of her. He won’t even get to see her one last time.</p>
<p>“Sam, Sam! Sam…”</p>
<p>He touches his chest. Damn, that hurt. He needs to conserve his strength to say all the things he needs but it gets harder and harder to even think.</p>
<p>“Stay wi…” he breathes heavily, knows this is it and feels calmed by the knowing. “Stay with me.” Sam hesitates and Dean levels him with a look, eyes locking. “Can you stay with me, please?”</p>
<p>Just one last time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean doesn’t watch his burning corpse from above or float over it and Sam or some crap like that. No, one moment he’s in that barn, dying and being held by his brother, told that it’s okay to let go, and in the next he’s in some field somewhere.</p>
<p>What the fuck is this? It’s nice, he’ll admit that, but what is it?</p>
<p>Sunny skies, birds chirping, a pleasant greenery around him. Dirt roads that dust up like they do in the summer. It’s hot but not overbearing, it’s pleasant. It’s… welcoming. In the distance there’s mountains covered in wintergreens and he thinks that he’s seen this place before, but he can’t place it.</p>
<p>A light breeze passes by and he feels the calm and the peace, feels his surroundings wrapping around him like a warm hug, and he intuitively knows.</p>
<p>“Well, at least I made it to Heaven.”</p>
<p>“Yep,” a voice answers him and fucking hell, he knows that voice.</p>
<p>There, just to his right, is suddenly this wooden building and how the hell didn’t he see that immediately? On top of it there’s a sign that reads “Harvelle’s Roadhouse” and Dean’s a bit thrown because he doesn’t remember it looking like this. But more than that, in front of it, on a rickety patio chair, is Bobby. <em>His</em> Bobby, the Bobby that damn well nearly raised him. Bobby who took a bullet to the head and–and…</p>
<p>“What memory is this?” he asks, immediately wary because he can’t remember it at all.</p>
<p>Bobby looks somewhat amused.</p>
<p>“It ain’t, ya idjit,” he chuckles and damn, Dean’s missed hearing that. Just… just all of it.</p>
<p>“Yeah, it is,” he retaliates, confused now, hope for something he doesn’t know building inside him. “‘Cause the last I heard, you… you were in Heaven’s lock up.”</p>
<p>Put in jail for having helped them, punished in some way or another like everyone else who ever stood by their side, and they never did anything to help him get out, not even after Heaven lost power and it would’ve been so easy to bust in there and free him. Dean’s always felt bad about that, just another notch on his never-ending pole of situations left unresolved.</p>
<p>Bobby scoffs, still smiling. “Was,” he emphasizes. “Now I’m not. That kid of yours, before he went,” he bobs his head, finding the words. “Wherever. Made some changes here. Busted my ass out. And then he… well, he set some things right.”</p>
<p>That kid of yours, it must mean Jack. Dean sits down slowly, processing this. So Jack hadn’t just fucked off to be in every grain of every dust particle or whatever he’d said, he’d gone here and fixed shit. Dean remembers Cas being worried about Heaven losing power as it lost angels, had Jack made that all better already? Damn, Dean’s proud without even knowing if he should be proud just yet. But just the thought is amazing.</p>
<p>“Tore down all the walls up here,” Bobby continues with a fond expression, solidifying Dean’s hopes. “Heaven ain’t just reliving your golden oldies anymore. It’s what it always should have been,” he looks out over the scenery, but Dean can’t tear his eyes away from Bobby. For one, he can barely believe Bobby is here and free, and more than that, he’s starting to feel really hopeful that Heaven is a nice place now.</p>
<p>“Everyone happy, everyone together,” Bobby says, looking back at Dean, hammering in the point and Dean feels like he’s about to cry. Can it really be true? Can he really see everyone that left him? “Rufus lives about five miles that way…” he nods, and Dean looks but obviously can’t see anything. “With Aretha.” Dean blinks, Aretha who? Franklin? “Thought she’d have better taste.” Dean can barely process that, it’s hilarious but also so out of the blue. And thinking about that coupled with the fact that Bobby is sitting outside of the Roadhouse, does that mean he and Ellen…? But what about her husband, then? Maybe they’re all just friends.</p>
<p>“And your mom and dad…” Bobby interrupts his train of thoughts, looking back at him again. Dean feels pinned to the chair, his blood rushing at the mention of his parents. “They got a place over yonder.”</p>
<p>That’s… Dean doesn’t know what to think, how to… how to feel. It’s too good to be true. Could it be that the moment he gave up fighting he really got all he wished for? He doesn’t know how to feel about that but also knows that if he had given up the fight before they helped Jack become God then this wouldn’t have been possible. He has to believe that the fight meant something, and he thinks he needs to decide for himself here and now to just take what is given to him or he might have a meltdown.</p>
<p>He deserves the peace; he knows he does.</p>
<p>Bobby obviously sees that he’s struggling but it’s likely he doesn’t know what exactly is running through Dean’s mind.</p>
<p>“It ain’t just Heaven, Dean.” He says kindly. “It’s the Heaven you deserve.”</p>
<p>Or maybe he does know. Fuck.</p>
<p>“And we’ve been waiting for you.” Bobby continues and reaches down to grab a beer.</p>
<p>Dean accepts it with little hesitation, though he doesn’t immediately drink from it, still processing what Bobby said. He supposes Bobby meant they’ve been waiting to give Dean the welcome he deserves, happy to see him again, not that they were glad he died.</p>
<p>He decides to focus on one thing at a time. “So, Jack did all that?”</p>
<p>“Well,” Bobby sighs. “Cas helped.”</p>
<p>Time freezes, Dean’s whole body stiffening for an agonizing moment. He looks at Bobby, disbelief warring with precious, precious hope because what if it’s true? What if Jack managed to do what they didn’t even dare ask of him. What Dean wanted to shout at the top of his lungs but that felt too big to ask, to hope for, to dream. What if—?</p>
<p>Bobby gives him a look, an almost there wink, and Dean reboots, his lips twisting with a small smile. So Cas <em>is</em> here, Bobby isn’t lying, this isn’t some twisted trick to make Dean’s pain worse. Cas is… alive? He’s alive and he’s here, but why isn’t he <em>here</em>?</p>
<p>“It’s a big, new world out there.” Bobby says, clearly understanding that Dean needs time. Needs to breathe and find his equilibrium. “You’ll see.” He nods confidently, as if trying to convey something more, something hidden behind his words.</p>
<p>Dean looks at him, wanting so much to believe but he’s also scared that he’s projecting what he wants to hear. In lieu of answering, he takes a sip of the beer. It’s incredible, not the taste, but the way it’s filling him with a kind of warmth not often associated with alcohol.</p>
<p>“Oh wow,” he feels emotional on so many levels. “This tastes like the first drink I ever shared with my dad.”</p>
<p>Bobby smiles. “Quality stuff?”</p>
<p>“No, it’s crap,” they both chuckle. “But it was fantastic.”</p>
<p>It was the moment Dean had first felt that dad thought he was mature enough, that he was someone he could really rely on. It had been a great father-son moment. And dad had hated the beer too so it had become a fond memory they had in common, the way they spat out the beer, Dean at first thinking he was uncool for not liking beer and dad explaining that no, it was just this beer that was disgusting.</p>
<p>“Just like this.” Bobby says and Dean doesn’t want to fully disagree because this is fantastic too, in its own way, but he still feels like something is missing.</p>
<p>“It’s almost perfect.”</p>
<p>Bobby nods. “He’ll be along. Time up here, it’s… it’s different.”</p>
<p>And Dean knows Bobby means Sam, and he feels momentarily ashamed that that wasn’t what he had meant at all. Sure, having Sam here will make it perfect, but Dean is happy knowing that Sam will live a full life, hopes for a better future for his little brother. Actually hopes it will take him a long ass time to get here, even with the different time flow, whatever that means.</p>
<p>No, Dean was referring to someone else but when he goes to correct Bobby the words almost choke him, and he remains quiet.</p>
<p>“You got everything you could ever want…” Bobby continues. “Or need, or… dream.” Or maybe Bobby does understand, he’d given Dean that look after all. “So, I guess the question is…” he looks at Dean, fond. “What are you gonna do now, Dean?”</p>
<p>“Go find him” is at the tip of Dean’s tongue but he doesn’t say it, doesn’t know if he’s even welcomed. He clicks his tongue and looks out ahead, his eyes catching on Baby.</p>
<p>She wasn’t there before, what the hell? And it’s even the old license plate and everything, from way before when it all started, from when he…</p>
<p>He smiles, nods, knowing what he has to do.</p>
<p>He gives Bobby a satisfied look, still smiling. “I think I’ll go for a drive.”</p>
<p>Bobby smiles too and tips his beer at him. “Have fun.”</p>
<p>Walking up to Baby, Dean is filled with a sense of purpose. He knows what he needs to do, and he knows he deserves it, otherwise he wouldn’t be here, and neither would Baby. But fuck, just the memories alone make him almost choke again. Happy and sad, Baby carries them all and he loves her something fierce for it.</p>
<p>He sits down in front of the steering wheel, touching it’s worn and familiar leather and sighs with satisfaction.</p>
<p>“Hey, baby.”</p>
<p>As the engine starts up, revving in that way only Baby can, the radio flips on and Kansas’ <em>Carry on Wayward Son</em> starts up. How oddly fitting and on the nose.</p>
<p>He sighs, smiling. “Ah, I love this song.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The drive he takes is long, but he needs it to clear his head, needs to be in the right headspace for this, and having Baby eat the gravel under her is the best therapy he can think of.</p>
<p>The road is long and winding, lined with pine trees so tall he can’t see the treetops. Driving at an almost reckless speed, he chases the distant sunlight, letting the radio blast and his emotions running wild knowing this is all for him, this is the Heaven and peace that was meant for him, that he has fought for.</p>
<p>He can meet everyone he’s ever loved again and again, and it will only fill up as more of them die, living a happy and long life down on Earth and then coming to join him. He wonders, as he drives through the seemingly endless forest, how many of them misses him, how many of them cry, and finds himself hoping no one cries but that they instead remember all the good he did, all the good times they shared, and that they smile, happy for having just known him.</p>
<p>He reflects on everything they did over the years, the hunts, the fights, the people they saved and that they failed to save. The world almost ending and then being saved in the nick of time, again and again, by this ragtag band of people, humans and angels and demons and monsters, fighting against each other and with each other.</p>
<p>It’s been a long and arduous journey, but Dean wouldn’t change it for anything, it has shaped him, and it has defined him, but it hasn’t taken away from him what really matters. Family <em>doesn’t</em> end with blood and Dean will make damn sure of that.</p>
<p>Mind set, he pulls Baby over by the side of the road. It’s completely empty because it’s just what he needs in this moment and Dean’s thankful for that. Because for all his confidence in wanting this, he’s still nervous that it’s too little, too late.</p>
<p>He sighs and gets out of Baby, closing the door so that he can lean against it. Around him, the forest covers what isn’t road and he hears birds chirping. A warm breeze blows past and he breathes in deeply, nose filled with the earthy scents of the forest. He’s standing in the shade of the trees but it’s not cold, it’s exactly the right temperature and Dean’s still trying to get used to everything being precisely what he needs but he’s loving it.</p>
<p>He wets his lips and swallows, waits a moment longer with bated breath, and then he closes his eyes, bows his head.</p>
<p>He needs to do this for himself, it’s not gonna get served to him on a platter, and he understands why but it’s still tough.</p>
<p>“Dear, uh,” he harrumphs. “Dear Castiel, who is in Heaven. Apparently.” He chuckles nervously. “Are you getting this? Do you have your rabbit ears on? Does it still work like this? I don’t know but I, uh, if you wanna get here and talk to me then I’ll be waiting for… for, uh, you. I’ll be here.”</p>
<p>He waits another couple of breaths before he opens his eyes, really trying to force his prayer out there. It feels good, now the ball’s in Cas’ court, and Dean can just sit here and wait for his angel to—</p>
<p>There’s a <em>thwump</em> to the side and when Dean looks over in surprise, there’s fucking <em>Cas</em>. Cas, just standing there, still in that same ridiculous outfit, only… only it’s the trench coat he had on when Dean first got to know him, same blue tie on backwards and everything, hair a mess and eyes bright.</p>
<p>“Cas?” his voice is trembling because Cas at first looks blank, looks like he did before he broke free of the Heavenly Host and got his free will. That, coupled with the fact that Cas fucking <em>flew</em> here, makes Dean apprehensive.</p>
<p>Is it really his Cas or is this a new version that Jack created in the memory of his beloved father? But no, Jack didn’t know the Cas from back then, from when he had these clothes and his wings and—</p>
<p>And then Cas smiles and it’s really him and the world crumbles a bit around Dean, a shuddering breath escaping him.</p>
<p>“I didn’t think you’d pray for me so soon.”</p>
<p>Fuck, only hearing his voice is making Dean shaky. “I…” Dean swallows over a lump. “I had to. You didn’t meet me when I got here.”</p>
<p>That sounds so much more accusing than how he had meant it, but Cas quirks his head to the side and looks at Dean with a soft smile.</p>
<p>“Did you want that?”</p>
<p>“Didn’t you?”</p>
<p>That actually makes Cas chuckle and Dean about breaks. Why isn’t Cas coming over to him? Fuck it, Dean can’t wait for the invitation any longer, he needs this.</p>
<p>With three strides he’s over by the angel, pulling him into a crushing hug. Cas makes a soft sound and wraps his strong arms around Dean too, hand at the back of Dean’s head.</p>
<p>“Dean, I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure…”</p>
<p>“Shut up.” Dean says between gasps, holding Cas even tighter, too tight, but he can’t let go. “Shut up, I’m the one who’s sorry. I—we—I left you there. Left you to rot. I thought… We didn’t know how to bring you back, where to start. And we should’ve asked Jack, we should’ve—”</p>
<p>“It’s okay, Dean.” Cas interrupts and pulls out of the hug. “It’s okay, Jack got me almost immediately. I think. I was asleep in The Empty, it wasn’t bad.”</p>
<p>Dean draws a shuddering breath, refusing to let go of Cas, still holding on to the angel’s arms to keep him close. Overhead, a bird flies past, trilling, and its sad lament makes Dean’s heart ache.</p>
<p>“That’s not the point. The point is we <em>left </em>you. Cas, fuck, I was so… it was so jarring. The way you…”</p>
<p>Cas looks at him with a sad expression. “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything, I should have let you go without—”</p>
<p>“No!” Dean pulls in a deeper breath, this one steadier, and looks Cas dead in the eye. “Don’t you fucking take that back, I-I needed it, I wanted it, for so long—but then you…” he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, shaking his head. “I couldn’t even say anything back.”</p>
<p>“Dean, you don’t have to.” Cas says, his tone reassuring. “I know, it’s fine.”</p>
<p>“It’s not fine.” Dean forces himself to look at the angel, meeting Cas’ beautiful eyes, and sees that they’re full of unshed tears, feels his own welling. “Cas, I…” but how will words suffice? How can he even begin to say what he’s feeling, how Cas has changed him too, how they have made each other better simply by being in each other’s lives.</p>
<p>How Dean has felt all these years, having Cas stand by his side, always choosing him, and how he felt these past few weeks without Cas. How he spiraled, how he hoped for more without being able to actually hope, or knowing how to achieve it alone.</p>
<p>How he was so tired of living that he literally just let go.</p>
<p>How he died of a broken heart more than that fucking rebar in his back.</p>
<p>How his soul left him long before his life force did.</p>
<p>“Dean.” Cas puts a hand on Dean’s cheek, cupping it lovingly. “I know. Jack has decided that for the time being angels should stay up here, until Heaven is completely restored, but we can still watch Earth from afar. What do you think I watched? There is no one else that has captured me, Dean. No one. I watched it all, your struggles, your death, and I felt what you felt, <em>that’s</em> how I know.”</p>
<p>Dean trembles in Cas’ light embrace. “You watched me die? That’s low,” he tries joking, the pain of reliving that moment knowing Cas had seen him take the coward’s way out almost too much to bear. “Watching me in my weakest moment, dying like an expendable—”</p>
<p>Cas brushes his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone, silencing him. “You’re not expendable, Dean.” He says with conviction. “You’re valuable and loved.”</p>
<p>Dean gulps, the thought that Cas in all his immensity, an <em>angel of the Lord</em>, loves him, a mere human with all his flaws, is too big to process and yet it’s all he wants.</p>
<p>Words lacking, he does the only thing he can, and cups Cas’ face, pulling him into a kiss. His hands travel back to hold Cas by the neck, their lips pressing together in his desperate attempt at proving his love. His human and insufficient, inadequate love for this ethereal being that somehow, unbelievably, loves him back. Loves him more than life itself.</p>
<p>Around them, a breeze picks up, blowing dry leaves past them, the air scented with summer, all sounds drowned out as Dean disappears in the moment.</p>
<p>Cas puts his hands on Dean’s chest and pulls him close just as Dean notices that he’s crying so much that it makes the kiss wet for all the wrong reasons.</p>
<p>“I love you.” He rasps against Cas’ lips and feels Cas nod. “Tell me this isn’t some fucking sick, twisted joke and I’m actually in Hell. Tell me you won’t just disappear and leave me? Tell me this is real and true and that I—<em>we</em> can have this? Tell me this is <em>our </em>Heaven.”</p>
<p>“I won’t tell you,” Cas says with a wide smile, his eyes shining with love. “I will show you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s Cas who eventually tells Dean it’s Sam’s time to join them. He’s been watching over Sam and has been giving Dean updates and Dean has so much to talk to Sam about when he gets here, he’s positively giddy. For one, he’s gonna start with asking about what happened to the dog, and then maybe bring up Eileen, and of course ask how it was to be a dad. And maybe poke fun of him for refusing to cut his hair, even when he was old and looked like Doc from <em>Back to the Future</em>.</p>
<p>Cas gently refuses when Dean tells him to come with him to meet Sam, telling him that Dean should be the one to greet his brother and Dean gets that, is kind of thankful for it, but of course Sam will meet Cas soon enough. Cas and everyone else, everyone who has longed to see him and who he no doubt can’t wait to meet again.</p>
<p>Dean only wishes that Sam knew what Heaven was like. He hopes his brother isn’t scared of dying but Cas has assured him that he isn’t, that Sam is ready, and Dean feels content with that.</p>
<p>The place where Sam is supposed to pop up is apparently on a bridge overlooking the river where Dean usually goes fishing and that’s nice because it’s not that far from the lodge he shares with Cas. Not that Dean minds driving, especially not when the mixtape Cas painstakingly made for him starts playing <em>Carry on Wayward Son</em> as soon as he settles behind Baby’s wheel. It’s reminiscent of his own arrival in Heaven and he loves that.</p>
<p>He stops a bit out on the bridge but can’t see Sam, so he decides to wait outside, getting out to walk over to the railing and admire the view. It’s truly spectacular, and he doesn’t have to stand there for long before he feels the familiar presence behind his back.</p>
<p>“Hey, Sammy.” He says fondly, smiling as he turns to see his baby brother, just as he remembered him, young and healthy.</p>
<p>“Dean.” Sam nods and Dean walks over.</p>
<p>They look at each other for a moment, smiling, and then pull into a hug. It’s short but sweet, just what they need at that moment. When they go over to the railing again, Dean feels a peace like never before, content that his family is complete again.</p>
<p>They stand there for a while, arms around each other and just basking in the moment, and Dean thinks that this is almost perfect, except—</p>
<p>He closes his eyes with a smile at the soft <em>thwump</em> and the way Sam reacts, turning around with a surprised but hopeful expression at the familiar sound of Cas’ restored wings carrying him home to the brothers. To their side where he belongs.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>THE FUCKING <strong>END</strong></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just for the record, I still hate the ending. I hate that Dean died, that Cas was only mentioned briefly, and that we were forced to watch Sam grow old and die, all things hunting suddenly easily ignored just because Dean stayed dead <em>this</em> time.</p>
<p>My perfect ending would’ve been Chuck defeated, world saved, TFW coming back to the bunker ALL ALIVE. They sit down, clink their beers together because go team, now we can rest for a bit, and just as they congratulate themselves Crowley pops into the bunker and goes “Hello boys, I’m back to raise some hell.” and the screen cuts to black.</p>
<p>That’s MY ending, not this trivial rubbish, but at least with this fic I fixed some of it, if not for anyone else then at least for me.</p>
<p>Thank you for reading, please do leave a comment if you want to vent about the ending (or this version of a fix-it in the sea of fix-it fics that are washing over us), did you like it or did you hate it? Are you okay? Don’t hesitate to express your opinions. My DMs are always open on both Tumblr and Twitter if you wanna come there instead.</p>
<p>For those of you reading my WIP “Hey, Alpha!”, the next chapter will be up on Thursday as promised. And no, I won’t stop writing fanfics just because the ending invalidated the show’s core messages. I still love the show and the characters, and the way it’s brought us all together, and no one can take that away from me.</p>
<p>Make Supernatural great again! (with ff)<br/>~zation</p></blockquote></div></div>
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